


Looking for Firewood

by HootieMcBoobs



Series: Hours and Hours [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Horcrux Hunting, Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 01:34:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3959464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HootieMcBoobs/pseuds/HootieMcBoobs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione is still tired.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i>It had been two weeks since he had followed her into the woods, two weeks since he had dropped between her legs and given her the most incredible orgasm of her life, a memory that still sent a delicious, lazy shiver down her spine.</i>
</p>
<p>  <i>Most pressingly, though, it had been two weeks since she'd told him she would reciprocate, but she had yet to find the chance.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking for Firewood

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel to "A Walk In the Woods." There are some minor references to that story, but you don't need to read it because let's be honest: not a whole lot of plot going on here.  
> 

Hermione was still tired.

The runes in the book had turned out to be nothing, another empty lead in a seemingly endless stream of empty leads. On top of that, the trio's food supply was low, their energy levels lower, and their hopes of ever finding a way out of this horrible camping expedition lowest of all. 

And now there was also Ron.

It had been two weeks since he had followed her into the woods, two weeks since he had dropped his head between her legs and given her the most incredible orgasm of her life, a memory that still sent a delicious lazy shiver down her spine.

Most pressingly, though, it had been two weeks since she'd told him she would reciprocate, but she had yet to find the chance.

It was almost comical, the way fate seemed determined to keep them apart. 

The day after their encounter, Ron had announced (with a quick, red-faced glance at Hermione) that he was going out to look for firewood. After what she felt was a suitable, non-suspicious length of time had passed, she had casually mentioned to Harry that she was going to go out to look for food. Giddy with anticipation, she had pushed her way out of the tent – only to be met face-first with a howling rainstorm that had blown up seemingly out of nowhere. Ron had staggered back in a few moments later, soaked to the gills, his hair plastered to his head. A completely understandable miss one.

The next time Ron went to look for firewood, she had again patiently waited a suitable time and was just getting up to follow him when he came flying back into the tent, sputtering about the elephant-sized spider that he had uncovered under a leaf. A mildly ridiculous miss two.

The next time, just as she was getting ready to leave, Harry had come up with a very implausible idea about a Horcrux in Tom Riddle's orphanage and she'd been unable to dissuade him quickly enough to escape. An incredibly frustrating miss three.

The next time she had fallen asleep in her armchair while waiting to make her escape. (In her own defense, she had been wearing the locket the night before and had gotten very little sleep.) A very embarrassing miss four.

The next time she _had_ been able to escape after Ron, making some valid excuse to Harry and slipping out of the tent before he or any other force in the universe could keep her there. And then she had been unable to _find_ Ron in the vast expanse of forest that surrounded the tent. She had returned to the tent an hour later, covered in leaves and dirt, to find Ron and Harry sitting comfortably over a game of wizard's chess. An infuriating miss five.

The next time she had tipped over the pot of stew she'd been trying to make for dinner and was still in the process of cleaning it up when Ron returned, the disappointment clear on his face. A disheartening miss six.

And on it had went.

Ron still went to look for firewood, but he had stopped looking at Hermione when he did. 

On top of things, Harry had suddenly decided that he didn't ever, ever want to be left alone and so would tail after Ron or Hermione whenever they went anywhere, ensuring that they never had a moment alone together to even discuss the situation.

Tonight they were all sitting around the kitchen table, the remnants of the night's meagre meal in front of them. A familiar, dreary silence had fallen over the tent.

“Gonna go get some firewood,” Ron muttered and pushed back from the table without a second glance at anyone.

Hermione watched him leave, gnawing her lip, her body a tense spiral of helplessness and frustration and longing. It wasn't even the fact that she had promised reciprocation and had been unable to give it, her motives were far more selfish than that. 

She _ached_ for him. The memory of his touch, his mouth, tormented her. When she closed her eyes, Ron was all she could see. Ron, his hungry gaze transfixed on her half-naked body. Ron, groaning and running his hand over the bulge in his pants. Ron, his face buried between her thighs.

Ron, standing in the woods right now with his pants around his ankles and his hands on his stiffening cock -

She abruptly pushed to her feet, startling Harry. “Got to run out for a minute,” she said. 

“I'll come with you,” Harry said, getting to his feet.

She resisted the urge to hex him into oblivion, preferring instead to let her brain do the fighting for her. It was, after all, her finest weapon and while the day may come when she could not outwit Harry James Potter, it would not be this day.

“No, I'd rather you didn't,” she said. “I'm having, well, a bit of a problem actually.”

“What?” Harry said with genuine concern. He really did have a kind heart and she felt a little bad for tricking him. But only a little.

“It's a lady problem,” she said emphatically.

“Oh?” Harry said, his brow wrinkled in confusion. She waited patiently for him to clue in. “Oh!” he said, with a slightly scared expression. “Well... okay, then. But don't go too far.”

_Too far_. She fought off the urge to give a laugh of delight. Too far was exactly where she was going to go. “Be back in a bit,” she said and pushed out into the night.

She was outside and alone, and that in itself was a miracle, but now she still needed to find where Ron had gone. She trudged out in the forest, looking and listening carefully for any sign. It was growing dark.

Once again, her brain came to her rescue. She had casually mentioned to Ron once that she liked the smell of beech logs in the firepit and ever since then he had made a concerted effort to find them for her. They had seen a patch of beech trees when they arrived here, she remembered that Ron had commented on them. They were just down the hill behind the tent.

She turned and almost ran straight into Ron, his arms full of firewood.

“What's that?” she said, baffled. She had only been a few minutes behind him, he couldn't possibly have had time to do all that.

He looked down at the bundle in his arms. “Uh... firewood? That's where I said I was going, remember?” 

“Oh, so you really _were_ just getting firewood this time?”

“Yes,” Ron said, still looking confused.

“Because a couple weeks ago, when we...” she gave an awkward wave of her hand, “you had mentioned that looking firewood was your code word for...” Another awkward wave.

“Oh,” Ron said, his ears turning pink. “Right. No, not this time. Real wood – real _fire_ wood.”

“I see. So you didn't...?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

They looked awkwardly at the ground between them. She had thought she would catch him mid-act, as he had caught her, and would seamlessly join him, again as he had joined her. Now that he was standing there, fully dressed with his arms loaded with logs, she had no idea how to proceed.

“Well,” Ron said eventually, “I guess I'd better get this back - ” 

“No.” Plan or not, she'd had enough of this, _enough_. She stepped toward him with determination, took a deep breath, and cupped the crotch of his pants with her palm.

“Hermione!” Ron gasped.

“Yes or no, Ron,” she said, not letting herself move another inch even though she ached to explore him.

“Yes,” Ron said quickly. “Yes, yes, sweet fancy Merlin, yes please - ”

He was babbling but she barely registered it, too entranced by the soft bulge she could feel under her hand. There was certainly _something_ there, a lot of something, and it was growing by the second but she couldn't tell what was where. She'd seen picture of penises, of course, but she'd never had one in her hand and between the thick fabric of his jeans and the fact that she only had moonlight for guidance, she was very confused. She squeezed gently, trying to get her bearings.

The firewood in Ron's arms clattered to the ground, forgotten.

“You don't have to - ” he panted.

“I want to,” she said fiercely, because she did. She wanted his hot skin under her fingers, in her mouth, to see him lose control. She squeezed again, harder, and Ron let out a yelp that didn't sound entirely pleasurable.

“Sorry,” she murmured. All this blind fumbling through impossible denim wasn't going to do. She reached for his belt, fumbling with it for a few moments in the darkness before triumphantly shaking it free. She unsnapped the button on his jeans and roughly pushed them down his legs, telling herself that she would leave his underpants on for now and work her way up from there.

Except there were no underwear to leave on. As she pushed his jeans down over his hips, Ron's penis sprang free, slapping back up against his belly and tangling in the hem of his t-shirt. She let out an audible gasp, momentarily startled.

“Sorry,” Ron muttered and she could hear the pained embarrassment in his voice.

“No,” she said quickly. “No, it was just unexpected, that's all.” 

She squinted down in the darkness. Ron's exposed skin was so white he nearly glowed in the moonlight but it was not enough. She needed to see him. Cursing with frustration, she fished her wand out of her pocket and cast a gentle Lumos spell, just enough to illuminate the area around them.

She gripped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up and away from his body. “Hold this,” she instructed and Ron did so obediently, pulling the shirt up to his chin, giving her a momentarily distracting glimpse of a deliciously flat stomach and chiselled chest.

“Hold this,” she said again, this time giving him her wand. With a breathless laugh, he took the wand with his other hand. He hesitated, then held it at waist-height so that his body was fully illuminated.

All roadblocks finally removed, she looked down.

“Oh, Ron,” she breathed with admiration as her eyes travelled all over him. 

He was perfection. Now, granted, she had nothing in real life to compare him to, but even her powerful mind could not think of a single way he could be improved. His cock, long and thick, strained up eagerly toward her. He was uncut but the intensity of his erection had already mostly retracted his foreskin, revealing the slightly darker head underneath. His shaft was smooth, though with the faint light of her wand she could make out the outlines of a few delicate veins and a short tuft of what she knew must be gingery hair at the base. His testicles were pulled up tight to his body and looked surprisingly small, but as she regarded them curiously Ron shivered slightly and she realized how cold he must be with his bare skin exposed.

Tentatively, she reached out and traced a finger down his length. Ron gasped and his erection twitched, momentarily startling her again. 

She laughed softly then did it again, this time circling him with her fingers and thumb when she reached the base. She squeezed gently, testing the texture. His skin was hotter than she would have imagined and incredibly soft but with a solid hardness underneath, like a tightly flexed muscle. Fascinated, she ran her hand from the base of him up to the tip, feeling the soft skin slide smoothly beneath her fingers.

Ron swore loudly and swayed on his feet. 

“Language,” she murmured primly but she was inwardly delighted with his reaction. She pumped her fist slowly down his shaft, then back up. There was moisture pooled at the tip of his penis now and Ron shivered as she ran her palm over the head, though she doubted this time it had anything to do with the cold. 

Her moistened palm slid back down his shaft, much easier this time, and Ron let out a low moan that sent vibrations down her core. Her own breath quickening along with his, she pumped her fist over him again and again, experimenting with different pressures and rhythms, gauging his reaction. Ron's hips bucked against her hand and she felt his face drop into her hair. “Fuck, Hermione,” he groaned against her ear and she shivered, feeling her own desire coiling tight and hot in her stomach.

Without losing her rhythm, she reached her free hand out to cup his balls, caressing them gently. Ron swore again and threw his head back so she took the opportunity to take him all in, eyes raking over him hungrily from top to bottom. His hair was mused, his face flushed with exertion, eyes closed and lips parted. The muscles on his chest and stomach were even more defined by the tension in his body, his hips thrusting rhythmically against her fist and sending ripples of muscle up his abdomen. But the hottest image of all, one that forced a breathless moan past her own lips, was the sight of his throbbing cock in her fist, hot and wet and thick.

He was so bloody attractive, she couldn't help herself and pressed her lips against his sternum, swirling warm, opened-mouth kisses across the fevered skin of his chest.

Ron reeled on his feet, her wand dropping from his fingers and sputtering out as he gripped her shoulder to keep his balance. She cursed quietly at the loss of light but was quickly distracted by the fact that there were so many other new things to feel and hear and taste. 

_Taste_. She wanted him in her mouth. It was an intimidating thought, he was quite large and she knew what would be happening shortly and she wasn't sure if she was ready for it, but she wanted to do it, to take that next step with him.

Again, it was a small matter of logistics. Never stopping the movement of her hand she took a quick peek at the ground, trying to determine if there was a safe place to kneel. It looked safe enough, she should be able to just drop down on her knees and -

She didn't get the chance. Ron's grip on her shoulder grew impossibly tight and he pulled her hard against him, nearly knocking her off balance. She clutched blindly at his waist with her free arm, her face still pressed against his chest. “I'm going to -” Ron groaned and thrust hard. “Hermione - ” She felt his penis pulse and grow in her hand, then a hot, thick stickiness spurt across her fingertips.

Ron collapsed against her, breathing heavily, and she struggled to keep them both upright. She could feel his heart pounding wildly against her cheek and allowed herself one last quiet kiss on his skin. Ron shivered slightly so she snuggled closer to him, standing quietly in the dark and not daring to move a muscle in case it ended the moment.

After a few moments of intimate quiet, Ron wearily lifted his head. He winced slightly and tapped at her wrist, where her fingers were still wrapped tightly around his still-erect penis.

“Gets a bit sensitive, after,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“Sorry,” she said, releasing him and taking a half-step back. 

“I'm the one who should be apologizing,” he said, looking her up and down. “Look at you.”

She looked down. There were wet semen stains on her pants and the bottom of her shirt. “That's nothing,” she said. She bent down and picked up her wand from where he had dropped it and quickly cleaned her clothes and hands.

Ron bent over too, retrieving his pants from around his ankles.

“No underpants?” she said with mock disapproval, trying to keep the mood light.

“Too hard to keep doing laundry,” he shrugged.

Fair enough. She certainly wasn't complaining. Although now she had no idea how she was going to be able to concentrate on anything at all knowing that he was entirely bare under his pants. She watched with mild disappointment as he tucked his penis back into his jeans and zipped them up.

Ron looked at her awkwardly. “I don't really know what to say,” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “ _Thank you_ just seems... wrong.”

“Oh, it's nothing,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush. “Well, it's not that it's _nothing_ , it's definitely _something_ , but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't an _enjoyable_ something for me too so I can assure you that there's no need to thank me because I mean, well, you did the same for me and we just... we help each other,” she finished lamely.

Ron was watching her stammer with a fond, amused expression on his face but there was something else there too. A look that she'd seen in his eyes a few times but one that he had always quickly covered up when he saw her watching him.

He looked like he wanted to kiss her.

She froze. It was odd that kissing him seemed too intimate, given that she'd just had his naked penis in her hand, but the prospect truly scared her. The nameless, undefined nature of what they were doing together let her bury her feelings in the background, let her believe her own bullshit about “stress relief” or “helping each other.” Her hidden feelings for Ron were entirely too large and overwhelming. If lips got involved, there would be nowhere left to hide and she didn't think she could take it.

No, kissing him was entirely a step too far. She took another half-step backward.

“I hate to say it - ” she started. 

“ - but we'd better get back,” Ron finished. “I know.”

They picked up Ron's scattered firewood from the ground and slowly made their way back to the tent.

“So it's your turn again, I guess,” Ron said cheerfully. “Let me know when you want to, uh, go for another walk.”

“Maybe next time,” she said, feeling bold, “we can go for a walk and look for firewood at the same time.”

“Sounds complicated,” Ron said but he was smiling.

“I'm sure we can figure it out.” 

“Right. We'll help each other.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Surely there's a spell that can knock him out for a few hours,” Ron said, nodding in the direction of the tent.

“Hours?” she said hopefully.

“Oh, hours,” Ron said seriously. “I'm going to need hours and hours. And then hours.” He paused at the doorway to give her a long, slow once-over from head to toe, his eyes ending hungrily on her face in a way that sent a bolt of need right through her. “ _Hours_ ,” he said one last time, then disappeared into the tent.

She hung behind for a moment, closing her eyes against the incessant pulse of desire, glad that Ron had gone inside because if he'd stayed here, she would have surely pulled him down on the ground and made love to him right there.

When she'd regained some semblance of control, she walked into the tent. Ron was throwing some new logs on the fireplace, whistling cheerfully.

“Did you fix your, uh, problem?” Harry asked her politely.

“Not yet,” she said, looking over his head to meet Ron's eyes. “But soon enough, I think.”

“These things do take time,” Ron said.

“Hours and hours,” Hermione said and they shared one last private smile while Harry looked on, bemused.


End file.
